Finding Light
by thewillowtree1106
Summary: Harry and Hermione return to Hogwarts for their final year, broken from the war and its aftermath. Meanwhile, Severus Snape wanders the castle, adjusting to his new ghostly form. This is a story about loss, comfort and rebuilding oneself. Rated MA 18, due to scenes of sexual nature, especially later on.
1. Ghosts

**A/N: I have not written a fanfic in over two years, so, please cut me some slack. This idea came to me, though, during a recent vulnerable time in my life. However, I was reminded that with darkness comes light, and that is what I wish to portray in this story. It's still in-progress, but I have a very firm understanding on where I'd like it to go. I've uploaded the first two chapters at once, though, as they are both introductory.**

 **Forewarning: there are definite scenes of sexual nature that will occur, however, I hope to pursue them in a more... tasteful manner.**

 **Please review if you'd like. I'm a curious to know the response to this idea.**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter-that honor goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I owe her the magic that filled my childhood (and yes, my early adulthood, as well).**

 **Chapter I. Ghosts**

Severus Snape wandered the halls of Hogwarts, not quite sure where his legs were taking him. The barren corridors and passages felt enormously eerie since the war's finale and Voldemort's fallen regime. As a student, he had always marveled at how well his mind knew the Hogwarts grounds-what with his many lonesome, nightly wanderings. However, since his death, he soon realized how much that paled in comparison to his current geographical knowledge. Without the ability to sleep, he had spent the past summer watching the seemingly ever-constant castle rebuild itself from the ashes, with the aid of the remaining staff.

Regret and anxiety felt like a plummeted anchor in the pit of his stomach every time he caught glimpses of his former staff. He knew that the Potter boy had relayed the depths of his memory from the pensieve to them and to the Ministry after the dust settled, but part of him knew that the boy's explanations and reassurances may prove moot-there would always be individuals who saw his choices as cowardly, not brave. And he was one of them.

He did not quite know yet whether or not the Hogwarts staff was aware of his existence in new form. At one point earlier in the summer, he could have sworn that the headmistress had caught sight of him in the Gryffindor tower while she prepared the new eighth-level dormitories for the students who had yet to complete their full seventh grade level the year prior. Luckily, however, she seemed too absorbed in her work to notice the dark ghost, hidden in the corner. Despite having only spent one year in the role, Severus understood the pressures Minerva now endured as she struggled to make room for an above average number of students. He did not wish the burden on anyone, especially when considering the horrors with which the previous years' students must now be dealing. Such dismay would pay a toll on any witch or wizard's psyche, no matter how strong and capable she or he may be.

Broken from his reverie, he immediately realized he had once again found himself in the Gryffindor common room. He knew why his mind subconsciously always brought his being here-it made him feel closer to her. To Lily. And, once again, he pondered what his life would have been like had he been sorted into this house with her. His fragmented thoughts continued as he made his way to the over-stuffed couch by the fire.

 _Strange_ , he thought whilst looking up into the flames, both confusion and sadness etched across his face. _I can almost feel it_.

* * *

For once, Harry did not think twice as he strode through the train, looking for a compartment. For once, he kept his head held high as passing students gave him cheerful smiles and slaps on the back. But, unfortunately, for once-and despite past years feeling somewhat similarly-he knew he was completely and truly alone. _How is that even possible?_ He thought. There he stood among the warmth and glow of his peers, yet cold darkness enveloped him every time he tried to approach their light. _Why?_

Well, he knew why. _Ron_. All he wanted was to see his friend's freckled face and flaming, red hair again. To hear his infectious laughter, which always seemed to fill a room-no matter how obnoxious. But instead, he forced a false grin as he walked past his fellow students and found an empty compartment towards the back of the train. He placed his worn and reliable trunk on one of the upper shelves, sat down abruptly and began to massage the dry eyes beneath the frames of his glasses.

After spending the entire summer in seclusion, he thought he would eventually open up to the idea of Hogwarts and, in turn, the social interaction that would undoubtedly ensue. Nevertheless, as soon as he stepped foot on the train, he desperately yearned to return his sanctuary at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had led a simple life with Kreacher, repairing the damage the Death Eaters had left behind in their search for Harry and his two best friends.

 _Friends_. For some reason, the word echoed in his mind like a sharp insult. _Not anymore-they're gone now_.

His summer had proved evident of that. Beyond all the praise he had received in the letters that reached him from all over the world, there was also resentment. And it outweighed the praise. Countless stories of lost loved ones flooded through his brain day and night, weighing him down in a way that made him shiver despite the summer's heat. Unfortunately, such sentiment emanated from those he had believed most constant in his life…

The look of Ginny's tear-struck face as she watched her favorite brother die would never stop haunting Harry's thoughts. His nightmares. He closed his eyes and she materialized in his mind, but instead of the warm, chocolate-brown eyes, he saw only her furrowed shadows of resentment as she turned to leave with what remained of her family.

He opened his eyes and noticed that the train had already left the platform without him realizing. As the urban landscape turned to that of rural pastures, a sudden memory quickly swept through him. This compartment. Here, five years ago, the dementors of Azkaban had boarded and plunged him into the darkest of depths of himself. _How did I do it?_ He questioned. _How did I find the light?_

And suddenly, he felt a glowing presence behind him. Not needing to look around to know who stood behind the compartment's glass window, he whispered,

"Hermione."

* * *

She watched the raven-haired, spectacled boy-no, man-regard the passing meadows beyond the window. When she saw his body stiffen, she knew that he was aware of her presence. And her stomach filled with dread.

 _How do I face him?_ She pondered. Instead of dwelling, she quietly slid the compartment door open and rested her trunk against the seat across from Harry. He had not looked up at her yet, and with each passing moment, Hermione doubted he ever would. She did not blame him, but it did not stop the agonizing sensation that tore through her chest. But then, there they were. The green pair of eyes had found the brown, each mirroring the same sentiment. Contrition.

"Harry, I-," the start of an apology choked as an abrupt sob escaped from within her, but it did not matter. Harry pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and she could feel his tears wet her cheek and ear. Her arms were caught between her body and his, and she grasped at the neck of his shirt, trying hard to breathe normally. His familiar scent brought back the ghosts of nights spent in a cold tent, strategizing and researching whilst hunting for horcruxes. Her heart lurched once more, as memories of Ron surfaced. Of him dialing in on the radio. Of him sleeping on the cot, muttering in his sleep. Of him leaving the tent in anger, his bag flung over his shoulder, walking off into the darkness. _He's gone._

She broke away from the hug she did not deserve and spoke before she lost her nerve. "Harry, no words can describe how sorry I am. I tried to write you back, I did, but all I could think about was hi-him." She paused and inspected his expression. He did not look angry, just… broken. "You were all alone and I should have been there for you. I should have been there for my best friend."

His eyes fell to the floor and said almost inaudibly, "I thought you hated me too."

With the crook of her pointer finger, she lifted his chin up so she could look him directly in the eyes. "I could never hate you, Harry Potter." She let her hand move from his chin to the back of his neck and pulled him into her own hug. "I was grieving in the only way I knew how. I didn't speak to anyone for months and slept all the time. But Harry, in my grief, I was selfish. While I sought solitude, I never even thought about how others may need my comfort. And Harry," she pulled away and could see her tearful eyes reflected in his, "I didn't know about Ginny, not until a couple of weeks ago, but by then it was too late." She stopped, a look of horror etched on her face. "Please tell me I'm not too late. Please tell me I can still be your friend, despite what I've done."

He leaned forward and with his thumb, wiped away each individual tear that seeped from her eyes. "Always," he said, and Hermione could see the ghost of a smile upon his lips.


	2. Comfort

**Chapter II. Comfort**

Severus watched from his shadowed corner as the students made their way to their respective house tables. His gut wrenched when he saw Potter take a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, furthest from the heads'. He could not help but notice the boy's downward glance and shaking hands. Shaking hands that seemed to have found their way into those of the Granger girl, who sat beside him. The girl gave her friend a reassuring smile and they sat in silence as they listened to the hat's sorting and Minerva's opening remarks.

The chatter and laughter that usually permeated the hall during the castle's opening feast was not lost on Severus. However, his dark eyes remained fixed on Potter and his friend. The boy seemed more troubled than usual. He knew that Potter had lost his loyal sidekick in the final battle at Hogwarts, but the boy had gone through much worse, losing Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin. _Why then?_ Severus soon discovered his answer.

At the exact opposite end of the Gryffindor table, he could just distinguish the youngest Weasley child, who could not seem to divert her cold glare away from Potter. Even among the professors, Ginny Weasley had never been known for her subtlety. He watched as her neighbor, the Patil twin, begin to console her. He could just make out her words of comfort.

"Ginny, are you okay?" The Weasley girl looked as if she had become fascinated with examining her hands in her lap. Parvati seemed to think twice before reluctantly saying, "Have you thought about talking to him, Gin? I mean, it was a war, you can't have expected Ron to-"

"No!" Ginny glared at the girl next to her. "My brothers died because of him. Ron stepped in front of a curse for him. Others may be able to forgive him for his heroism, but I still need time to grieve. So, just let me do that." Severus watched her immediately leave the table, passing by Potter and Granger in her walk to the Great Hall's exit. In her wake, he saw Potter look after her longingly but then he quickly shifted his glance to the untouched dinner plate before him. Granger placed her hand on the boy's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Potter gave a small smile and took a drink from his goblet. His friend left her hand reassuringly on his shoulder as she began to eat her dinner with the other hand.

Severus backed up further into his corner and seeped through the stone wall behind him. He suddenly started to breathe in rapid spurts. _Is it possible for ghosts to have panic attacks? No, surely not_. But as he thought it, he grabbed at his chest as if it actually could thirst for oxygen. His vision speckled with bright lights, and realization dawned on him.

 _That is what I have been craving_. His mind flashed back to the Patil girl's arm on the young Weasley's back. Granger's hand upon Potter's shoulder. He needed warmth, comfort, touch. He needed to feel something. His form unconsciously descended through the floor to the cold dungeons beneath him. _But that is impossible._

* * *

Several times throughout the following weeks, Harry had tried to confront Ginny-to no avail. She seemed as fierce and harsh as ever, and despite Hermione's protestations, he knew it was his fault. He could not help but recollect the blissful moments he and his ex had shared on the school grounds only a couple years prior.

He found solace in wandering the corridors at night, not bothering to bring his invisibility cloak or his map. Part of him did not feel quite right in using either object- the cloak reminded him of the many times he and Ron had hidden away beneath it; the map reminded him of the twin from whom he had received it.

He wound his way through the dimly lit corridors, and found his way, once again in front of the entrance to the Head Girl dormitory. He gave the password-Phoenix Tears-to the old wizard displayed in the painting before him. He found comfort in knowing that his best friend's dorm lay in close proximity to his own. However, the Gryffindor Tower did not seem much like home anymore. No one seemed to understand his need for true human connection and the constant cheerful-and almost phony-remarks of his peers only seemed to darken his mood.

Harry stepped through the passage into the small sitting area and automatically felt the firelight warm his skin. He noticed books scattered across the floor, couch and chairs, but his friend was nowhere in sight. Figuring she was reading in her room, he crossed the sitting room to the oak door that held her bedroom. He knocked softly, but there was no answer. He opened the door and saw Hermione curled up into a ball over her duvet. She still wore her trainers, jeans and jumper, and a small ancient runes codex lay next to her. He walked to her bedside, marked the her page in the codex and placed it on the end table. He continued to take off her shoes and gently removed the duvet from beneath her and pulled it up over her curled-up form. He habitually turned to the other side of the bed, took off his shoes and glasses, and climbed in next to her.

Burning out the candle on his own end table, he felt a draft enter the room as if the lack of light had absorbed all the warmth in the room entirely. His face turned to the window. The moon had not yet risen over the grounds, thus filling the room with a chilled darkness. He reached over and pulled the duvet up to the crook of Hermione's neck. In doing so, Hermione gasped awake.

"Ron?" Her hands reached toward him, searching in the darkness. Her hands clutched at either side of his face, but Harry pulled her hands into his own and said, "No, Hermione, it's me. Just me."

She snapped her hands away from him immediately and covered her face. Through her fingers that stifled heavy sobs, Harry heard a muffled apology. He pulled her close and stroke her damp, wavy hair. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured over and over again.

Harry felt her breathing begin to even against him. He knew it was almost time for her to pull away, just as she did every other time she woke up from her dreams about their friend. Before she could, though, he wrapped his arms around her tighter, not wanting to break their touch and to return to his own chilled side of the bed. Scrunching his eyes shut and regretting his words almost immediately, he whispered, "We could pretend." He felt her body steady beneath him; she was no longer shaking with tears. "I could be Ron for you; you could be Ginny for me. I know that sounds awful, but ca-can't we just pretend?"

* * *

Hermione couldn't breathe. It was as if someone had hit her in the stomach. She gradually released herself from the desperate grasp of her dear friend's embrace and looked up into his face. She could tell that his eyes were shut tightly, as if not wanting to look at her; to hear her reply. She put a hand to his cheek and said, "I'm sorry, Harry."

His eyes opened in a flash and she could just make out the tears that had already begun to spill. Her heart ached for him. Yes, she had lost her Ron and it was the hardest thing she had to live with. But Harry? Harry had it worse. His love was still alive, but Ginny _chose_ not to be with him. That was something she could scarcely imagine.

"Please, Hermione?" Harry pleaded. Hermione had never heard him sound more tormented. "I need to feel something. _Please._ " Hermione knew before he had even finished what she would do. It broke her heart, but she did it anyway.

She caressed his face between her hands and forcefully pushed her lips to his-anything to stop his crazed pleas. It was not like kissing Ron; it was desperate and fevered. Her fingers laced in his hair as she tugged him closer to her, succumbing to his warmth. She felt Harry nibble on her bottom lip, and she released an unconscious sigh. His hands reached for her waist, pulling her closer until her legs were intertwined with his. His lips traveled to her neck, tracing kisses along her collarbone. His hands rubbed up along her sides to her jumper, which he bunched up into his fists. He pulled away from their kiss to look her in the eye, a question formed upon his brow.

With a slight nod of the head, she helped him pull the jumper over her head and threw it into the darkness. His hands slid back down to her waist, his thumbs kneading and massaging the pelvic bones just above her jeans as he moved her to lie beneath him. He pushed up against her and she became aware of a sensation deep within her, which became more pronounced when Harry continued to rub against her in a slow, thrusting motion. The friction against her jeans and the nub of her core caused her eyes to water and her breath to catch.

Harry kissed her neck once more, but quickly moved his way down along her soft breasts. No longer asking for permission, he reached beneath her to unhook her bra. Hermione gave a small gasp and as Harry pulled the bra straps up from her arms, she quickly tried to cover herself. Harry halted and leaned in to her neck and murmured, "It's okay, it's okay," over and over again. She felt his eyelashes and lips softly tickle her tender skin and she began to calm. Hermione brought her hands back up to either side of Harry's face, and his eyes cast downward to look upon her, his eyes filled with hunger.

He brought his lips back down to her breast and began to tickle her hardened nipple with the point of his tongue. Hermione's arms immediately became covered in goose pimples and her legs wrapped around him more tightly. Placing a hand on the small of his back, she guided his thrusts against her and could slowly feel her knickers begin to moisten. Her throat released a slight moan, a reaction far beyond her control. She closed her eyes, not wanting anything to distract her from the heated arousal that was about to consume her.

And then-Harry stopped moving against her and his lips began to line their way down her stomach with small, wet kisses. Hermione felt his fingers tug at her jean's button, causing her fire to turn to ice. Snapping open her eyes and regaining her senses, she pushed Harry away in horror. She pulled the duvet up to her chin, trying to cover herself. She could feel the tears begin to fall, but even through her blurry gaze, she could make out the mirrored panic in Harry's expression.

"What did I just do?" he panted. With that, he haphazardly propped his glasses upon his nose, grabbed his things and departed the room, leaving Hermione in shivers.

* * *

Severus watched the two before him from the shadows, disgusted with himself for not turning away. He knew the perversion in watching two people discover each other, yet for the first time, he had empathized with Potter-of all people-and his need to feel close to something… someone. It embodied his own yearnings.

Simultaneously, he pitied the girl and the situation in which she had fallen. Only absolute loneliness would allow her to succumb to such comfort. He knew the feeling well. He had shared similar desperations after the loss of Lily, but he found himself unaffected by the sexual advances of other women. No one could compare to _her_.

He knew he should follow the boy and make sure he was alright-he _did_ promise Dumbledore he would watch over him afterall. Yet, the girl's muffled cries into her pillow cemented his pull to stay. He watched her curl up into a ball, the duvet still only covering the front of her bare torso. As her shoulders gradually stopped shaking, he moved closer to the side of the bed from which she faced away. He could hear her teeth chattering and he wished she had thought to light a fire in her own room.

When he reached the bed, he concentrated all his might on _not_ permeating through it. Astonishingly, he felt the soft ends of the duvet in which she nestled. He brought the palm of his hand to feel it properly, and unusually, the fabric did not dense beneath him. Focusing even further, he pushed as hard as he could and slowly, the fabric slightly ebbed into the mattress. He nearly gasped in wonderment, but then remembered himself.

Severus had never heard of tales in which ghosts could handle physical objects, yet here he stood, finally feeling. As he further pondered, he realized another astonishment. He _stood_ , a feat that no ghost-at least of whom he had before made acquaintance-could ever achieve. _Why have I not noticed this before?_ He knew why, of course; he was too busy taking in the memories of the castle around him to even fully regard himself. It occurred to him that maybe he was not as selfish as believed. But he would be selfish now.

There she was before him, displaying his opportunity for the human contact he so longingly desired. He crawled his way on to the bed, palm after palm, fixating his energy on only touching without applying his weight into mattress. The girl did not stir. She seemed on the brink of asleep, yet her teeth still chattered. His hand began to shake as he reached out to finger the waves in her hair. As soon as he made contact, he instantly became overwhelmed with a sudden, direct _awareness_. It was as if every sense in his body had been reawakened. He could feel the ruffled sheets beneath him; he could smell the fire smoking in the next room; and he could hear the girl's chattering teeth, but as if her mouth was just next to his ear.

The ghost moved closer to the young witch and his dark essence illuminated in the moonlight that displayed in the window's vignette. The round orb had just begun to rise above the grounds' tall pines and oaks, casting its light on Hermione's bed and the two figures within it. Severus progressively edged towards the girl's small form until his body spanned behind hers, not close enough to touch, but enough to feel her radiance. _Does she feel it too?_ he wondered.

He lay there for a few moments, ruminating on the miracle upon which he was blessed. Severus consented that he did not deserve such favor, but as he closed his eyes and felt the comfort ignite throughout him, he did not care. He was at peace within this wonderfully quiet room of the young witch he thought he knew. _Quiet_. The man leaned over and appraised his former pupil once more. A wry smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

Her teeth had stopped chattering-she had found warmth too.


End file.
